Chapter 16 #2
Winona pressed a hand to her mouth. I realized nobody had mentioned the accident tonight.
But I’d seen them since—everyone had all come by to check on me the day after Eli socked me in the face.
Even Eli and Eli’s brother Griffin, who played with us once in a blue moon, though I suspected Griffin just wanted proof that his brother had actually hit me.
Winona had told me they’d all been sick when they heard about the crash, and I would have been touched if I hadn’t still been so dazed.
And already thinking only of Chelsea.
But that’s when they’d decided to come to mine for this round, even though it was Ben’s turn to host. I remembered, vaguely, them talking about bringing everything to me.
That’s why nobody had opened the sad bag of chips I’d left on the counter.
It was why Ben had brought the box of food, and Ulrich and Winona the booze.
Normally, the host provided all the supplies.
A warmth spread through me. They were better friends than I gave them credit for, even if I didn’t bare my soul to them every month.
“Well, shit,” Winona said.
But I could see the matchmaker wheels in her head turning.
“Winona, nothing’s happened… nothing’s going to happen between us,” I warned. “So don’t even start with your matchmaking shit, okay?”
“Oh come on.”
“I’m serious.”
I said it so tightly she clamped her mouth shut. When she opened it again, I could tell she understood. It was Eli, sure. But it was me, not wanting to be close to anyone. Not being able to be close to anyone, even if I wanted to.
Winona studied me a moment more, but nodded. Ulrich and Ben were making their way back to the table now anyway, and it was my turn to deal.
Absurdly, as I shuffled, I thought back to Winona’s and my first date, all those years ago.
Winona had gone on and on, asking me so many questions.
I’d been overwhelmed, giving her one-word answers.
I’d always figured she’d been filling the time, making up for the lack of connection.
But maybe she’d been trying to get me to talk?
I dealt the cards, and I played a decent hand, still managing to lose to Winona, with a straight.
Halfway through the next hand, Eli came in, not bothering to knock.
He settled down in the chair next to me, giving me a lighter punch than Winona had, and for a while, I felt like everything might be okay.
Then I felt the buzz in my pocket.
A text message.
Adrenaline shot through me. I’d been waiting all goddamned day for my phone to buzz. Maybe it was Dad, saying he could make it after all. Or some client needing something on a Saturday night—it had been known to happen.
But somehow, I knew it wouldn’t be either of those.
I pulled my phone out but didn’t want to draw attention to it with Eli sitting right next to me, so I waited until the hand was over and he got up to get food.
When I saw her name, my stomach tightened.
CHELSEA: This is what I look like now.
There was a photo: it was of her face in the glow of a lamp.
Her whole face, with no bandage. The scar was intense, running from above her eyebrow to her opposite cheek.
An angry pink line laying claim to her, front and center.
It made me feel the same way I felt every time I saw her with the bandage. That she was as beautiful as ever.
That somehow, it was still my fault.
But now something new. That this was a part of her, and I cared about every part of her as a whole.
SEAMUS: You’re beautiful, Chelsea.
“Who the fuck are you texting?” Eli said, startling the shit out of me.
Thankfully, the photo had closed, so all that was visible were little text bubbles, and hopefully, Eli hadn’t seen. Somehow, I managed not to quickly close the text and hide the phone like contraband.
“What the fuck are you eating?” I shot back, my pulse twitching fast. I knew if I made something up, he’d know I was lying.
Eli knew me too well, and I was a shit liar, anyway.
Eli looked at his plate. He’d picked up one of Ben’s canapés, a cracker with some kind of pate on it, but he’d flipped it upside down on a potato chip.
Apparently Eli had opened the bag I left after all.
“Yeah, what the fuck is that?” Ben said from across the table.
“It’s all going in my stomach together anyway,” Eli said, shoving the strange combo in his face.
In my hand, my phone buzzed again, but I knew better than to look at it.
“Perfection.”
“An abomination,” Ben said, though I knew he wasn’t too pretentious about his food. It wasn’t haute cuisine at his restaurant, more like meat and potatoes, only French. Still, the combo was strange enough to irk him.
“Damn, that’s good,” Eli said around his food.
“Okay, get me one,” I said.
Eli grinned, making a see? face to Ben.
“Not you too,” Ben scowled.
“Are we gonna play poker or what?” Ulrich asked.
“I want one too,” Winona said. She saw where my hand was, gripping my phone with white knuckles. “Beer too, Eli.”
“So demanding,” Eli said from the counter, but complied.
Winona winked at me. She was distracting him for me.
And thank Christ, because when I opened the next message—shielded from the others—my mouth went dry.
CHELSEA: This is the rest.
With that, she’d sent the same photo, only zoomed out. All the way out to show her whole torso.
Her naked torso.
I pressed the button on the side of the phone in a panic, making the screen go dark. But it was too late. My heart smacked against my ribs, and my dick swelling from just that little glimpse.
What the fuck was happening?
But when I looked around, everyone was involved in conversation—arguing about messing with Ben’s canapés.
I opened the screen again, keeping it under the table with my hand cupped over it for extra protection, and tapped on her text, pulling her image up again.
I nearly groaned out loud.
She was so fucking beautiful I couldn’t stand it. The lamp cast a glowing light across her chest, amplifying the soft curve of her breast, the tight pinch of her nipple. I felt my cock swell even further as I imagined what that bud would feel like under my thumb.
And my tongue.
Ben and Eli were in a heavy debate right now, but I knew I couldn’t keep staring at a photo of Eli’s naked sister in the same room with him.
I quickly tapped out a reply.
SEAMUS: I have no fucking words, Chelsea. Except…
I hesitated.
SEAMUS: I want you. No, I fucking need you.
I locked the phone as Eli moved my way, shoving it in my pocket before he sat.
“Et voila,” he said, handing me a chip-cracker combo.
Ben rolled his eyes. “Really, you speak French now too?”
“Incredible, right?” Eli said.
“Mmm hmm,” I said. But I barely tasted the food. All I could see was Chelsea’s perfect tits. Her face, the look in her eyes, the frankness. The challenge. That was her response to my text this morning. She wanted to know if I still wanted her—all of her. How could she ever have a goddamned doubt?
All my promises to myself; to Eli—they were like a distant memory; a joke I’d once made. I couldn’t not be with Chelsea, not after this.
“Dude, you’re up,” Ulrich said.
I blinked. The cards were in front of me. It was my deal again.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, but all eyes were on me now. And Eli was looking at me strangely.
“Here,” Winona said, shoving the glass in front of me closer. “He’s got dry mouth with your salty monstrosity,” she said to Eli, and Ben hooted.
I let out a breath. Thank God for Winona. She gave me the smallest smile.
It was still too risky to check my phone with Eli next to me—and in the middle of dealing—so I dealt the cards and played the hand.
I didn’t hear any of the conversation around me.
All my mind could do was run through all the ways I might make my excuses and leave.
I wanted to run straight to Chelsea’s place, right now.
But it was tricky. She lived in the same building as Eli.
Kevin’s old truck was distinctive, and he’d absolutely see it in the lot.
Plus, what reason could I have for wanting to leave my own place?
The hand took an eternity. When that and the next hand were over, I mumbled something about skipping the next round, needing to take a leak, and strode as casually as possible toward the bathroom.
My cabin’s two bedrooms and bathroom were off the hallway behind the kitchen, with the foyer at the opposite end, so luckily, I could be quickly out of sight of the others.
The moment I turned the corner, I pulled up the text.
CHELSEA: I’m coming over.
I froze. The text was from twenty minutes ago. My hands almost shook as I hammered out a reply as fast as I could.
SEAMUS: No. Eli’s here.
But the response was instantaneous.
CHELSEA: I’m currently driving and not responding to texts. I’ll see this when it’s safe.
An automatically generated text. Fuck me. Panic overtook me. This was bad, very bad. Eli would know something was up.
Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world? We were adults, right? But I’d promised to look out for her. I’d promised, and Eli trusted me.
Then my heart dropped. Gravel popped in my driveway. She was already here. Why the hell did she rush over so fast?
But she didn’t have to—it took less than ten minutes to get here from the Rolling Hills. She’d waited, and I hadn’t responded, and because it was me, she took the lack of a response as a yes.
I realized I’d been sitting there in the hallway panicking without moving, and practically sprinted to the door. Maybe if I caught her before she rang the bell I could stop this from happening.
But she didn’t ring the doorbell.
The trucks—she’d have seen the three extra vehicles in the driveway. I let out a breath, crossing to the foyer, praying no one at the table noticed the brief flash as I walked by.
I swung open the door. Chelsea’s car was on, her lights shining right at me. I held my hand over my eyes. I needed to tell her to come back later, or I’d come to her later. I needed to—
Eli appeared by my side, lit up as bright as me. Then he squinted at the car in the drive. He didn’t turn to me when he said, “What the fuck is my sister doing here, Seamus?”